


Thomas Sinew Pulled the Trigger

by My_Soul_and_Perfume



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Child Death, Child Protective Services, Depression, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fantasy, Français | French, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Neglect, Self-Harm, Senses, Social Worker, Verbal Abuse, discussion of religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Soul_and_Perfume/pseuds/My_Soul_and_Perfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touch, taste, sound, smell, sight. Each sense holds a purpose, a specific job, that makes living easier or harder to bare. It is an alpha's responsibility to hone these senses within their partners and control them so their omega will live a happy life. However, if an omega looses trust within their partner, they are reduced back into a plain mass of flesh and bone, void without feeling.</p>
<p>Alec Sinew, ex father and husband, has recently lost his son due to a severe fever and neglect. Everyday is dull, boring, he feels as if he has no purpose for living. Every breath taken is like a shallow intake of air, whatever he eats settles rock hard in his stomach and hardens like cement. To reach deep inside and find love...is impossible.</p>
<p>Now living in a barely tolerated, one bedroom apartment, Alec decides that it is time to get help; he signs up for a special sense honing specialty facility, where he will be assigned an alpha to take care of him, and possibly mate once again. The journey ahead of him will be difficult and disastrous, there is no telling what could happen. But Alec is tired of living in a void. He wants to get better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Alec Sinew in the picture

It is not very often that bad luck visits Alec Sinew. No, his life, from the day he was born, has always been filled with unlikely opportunity and tolerance. His studies were no challenge, Alec made trustworthy companions to spend time with. He even gave birth with the love of his life as soon as he became an adult, in his little town in Arizona. Alec and Rane were happy, lovesick, everyone said that they were the perfect couple. Rane's stubbornness gave way to him being easily persuaded by Alec when something needed to change, and Alec was so organized that having someone as spontaneous as Rane balanced out the stress of adulthood.  
 

They were okay, perfectly fine, until Rane started disappearing from time to time, leaving Alec alone with their child. Alec couldn't complain, seeing as his husband was making three fourths of the money in their house; Rane probably had business meetings to attend to. But you see, raising an omega is no easy task; at firstborn they are Senseless. The child cannot hear, taste, smell, etc and therefore helpless. In order for the omega to gain his or her senses, both parents must give a daily dose of pheromone and attention; around the age of three, if things are developing well, the child will have full range of motion.  
 

But Thomas, their son, only had one parent to take care of him. His other father barely came home and his daddy started to get stressed out. And so, due to neglect and an untimely fever, he died.  
 

This was Alec Sinew's first day of bad luck.

* * *

 

Heaven is no longer shining down on Alec Sinew; it is mascaraed by a thick, black blanket of cloud. In his home it is dark, chilly evening air seeping through the windows and letting in a draft every now and then. A chorus line of bass rattles everything within range; sparks of light kill unfortunate things. Beside him the covers shift.  
 

A quick tug of thick muscle in his neck is all it takes for Alec to stand to attention. "Thomas!" he gasps. The blanket resting on his son's right side has shifted. The new folds would have been unnoticeable to most, but Alec has been laying there, on their full sized, whitewash framed bed, for quite some time.    
 

His breath fall in huffs as Alec pushes his tired body up from the elbows and over little Thomas' corpse, weak muscle straining at the effort. He knows the dead can't come back to life but maybe God has spared him a small mercy. He is hoping for a divine voice to reinstate his faith:  
 

_You didn't kill your son. He's still alive._

 

 He places the palm of his hand over sickly pale flesh, sweeping his thumb over the jugular with pressure, at hope of finding a pulse.  
 

No such luck.  
   
 The omega curls up tight beside Thomas and hugs his corpse close, despite the bile stains down his shirt. He is used to the cycle of twitching, checking, and disappointment, and would repeat it ten times more. Who could blame him though? If your child died but you weren't there to officially confirm it, wouldn't you want to double check just to make sure?

 

The answer is 'Yes'.

 

Humans are stubborn that way.

 

Stubborn, just like Alec's husband, who _insisted_ on venturing into the storm to buy medicine, maybe to save the day again. They used to work together to solve all of their problems, one planning and the other acting, all while simultaneously accomplishing tasks without difficulty. But what once was a perfect machine, turned into a plane running on autopilot and less fuel than it started out with from the beginning. Rane and Alec have thrown themselves out of sink with seemingly no reason to give. His husband, although biologically correct, has become less passive and increasingly aggressive, to Alec's observations on a daily basis. This used to be okay with him because obviously some sort of power play would come in eventually, but Alec couldn't figure out what he had done wrong for Rane to shut him out completely and rarely come home for dinner. They both have jobs, the both have a child. But love...he isn't so sure they share it anymore. The both of them are different in terms of personality, but as far as socializing and hobbies, their main concern was family. There is no time to love anyone else but each other.

 

Alec has no doubt that Rane went to retrieve medicine, and he completely understands how difficult it is to maneuver through traffic in a storm, but the pigheaded alpha hasn't come home yet and he left over eight hours ago. 

 

To add on, the lines are dead, so Alec couldn't call him even if he tried, there's no electricity or running water anymore leaving the house absolutely freezing, and  he has no one to go to for help. This would be the point that Alec carry himself over to the neighbor's house, but like many others, they have travelled on vacation in their large mini vans for Thanksgiving. With his last resort out the door, Alec has himself (and Thomas) stuck in a ditch, with no other way but a steep climb out of there. A very dangerous risk he would rather not take, for fear  of getting hurt. He's already ruined one life, no need to take another.

 

Alec slides his knee between Thomas' thigh so that they lock together, then laces his fingers in a placating manner over his chest where his heart would be. His cheek remains caked between the crease of Thomas' jaw and shoulder, more for being able to rub them together like they used to. Right after dinner, bellies stuffed full and mouths rinsed of mint, the two of them would be wrapped up in each other arms just like this every night while he told him heart stopping tales of a princess or prince locked in a tower. Unlike the uncharacteristically empathetic villains and happy endings Alec concluded with, time and life have taken a reverse effect to their bedtime stories and incorporated it to their lives. Thomas and Alec are now the princes locked in a tower with no way out. Only instead of living to see the end, one ended up dead and the other can feel monsters lurking in the shadows.

 

All in all, the entire situation is becoming very taxing on Alec's body; he can feel the shock taking over and with Thomas' dead corpse pressed at his front, the cold, infected flesh only encourages the shivers to rattle his bones. The omega can feel exposed skin from his toes starting to numb, the same effect on his fingers even as he wrings them in Thomas' tee shirt to keep warm. His breathing is labored from exertion, white dots dance dizzyingly even as Alec has his eyes closed. He realizes, not so helpfully, that Thomas is the only one with a blanket; the omega is disgusted by his growing want to snatch the material from his silhouette, and to atone, kisses his son's neck in apology.

 

Eventually the stormy weather lulls him to sleep, like a heavy shot of morphine injected through his veins, thunder acting as a replacement for the missing alpha in his life. It feels as if the storm is paying particular attention to his family, like it knows what has happened there and wants to join in on the sorrow.

 

  
_There's always room for one more. You're allowed to grieve as much as I am._ Alec reminds the moody, Arizona sky. His heart slows its frantic beating, a lion like behavior to stretch his jaw as he yawns through the drowsiness. Alec lets his jaw fall slack and indulges in temporary relaxation. Maybe tomorrow his sleep deprived conscience will finally understand the new crime on his hands, the glass and décor fairly redecorated downstairs, but for now, with no more wedding band  putting him ten feet under and exhaustion creeping through his bones, setting them firmly in place, Alec will sleep away his last moments of peace with a corpse to bring him comfort.

 

It is midnight, and Rane Sinew has not come home.

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment pretty pretty please!


	2. License: Denied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A challenge is a threat. Threats are never taken light. People should never step up to an alpha.
> 
> "What do you want me to say?!"
> 
> Keep your voice calm. Don't let the problem reach new heights.
> 
> "You left him alone and he died! I want you to apologize!"
> 
> Never point fingers.
> 
> "This would have never happened if you stayed home. Don't give me that bullshit!"
> 
> The blame is equally shared.
> 
> "What, you wanted him to suffer? Is that it? If you didn't want him to have the medicine you should have said something."
> 
> Try not to get emotional.
> 
> "He didn't die because of a fever."

       Tension as thick as blood squeeze their hearts, and suddenly confessions are ringing in the air. A bullet per word, a grenade per sentence, the assaults don't stop coming. They aren't even trying to hurt each other...it's just happening. The death of a little boy has pulled the trigger on their relationship; down with the intimacy, get rid of the walls. Fuming mad in a private office decorated with nothing but a plain, chestnut table and two plastic chairs. Two cheap, Styrofoam cups melting along the edges from scorching liquid tipping its scale. They sit, now lonely and forgotten, but still pungent enough to smell from down the hall.

 

       Two males are currently battling for the win.

 

       "I don't understand how we even got this far, Rane. I just don't."

 

       "It hasn't been 'we' in a long time. We still aren't--" A pale, circular mark resting just below Alec's knuckle is void of its ring. Rane's royal blue, eagle eyes confront it dead on, replaying each other's vows over and over like a broken record player in his head. The brass knuckle ring, encrusted with sparkling tin to resemble the stars is no longer...it's not there anymore. Rane assembles their hands together, pale to palm, fingers stretching toward the sky, to show the difference in aesthetic; he suddenly feels empty without the bond of his mate linked to him.

 

       Alec flinches on contact, but just barely so. He retracts his hand, the tips of his fingers curling inward to meet his palm and making a fist. He clenches it as it hangs tensely by his thigh. Body contact is something he would have gladly accepted if the situation were different. But right now, they just don't have the time. "You're right. Our relationship ended a long time ago." Rane furrows his brow and tilts his head to the side, as if Alec's words don't make sense to him. He supposes in a way, that this is true and false at the same time. "I became your bitch after a while, didn't I? You, you... Do you understand how hard it was for me to go to sleep without you? Night after night after night, it just--" Alec chuckles bitterly. "I think I stopped being hurt after a while and just started being angry instead."

 

         "No, no. Baby...." Rane circles around the table slowly, interrupting his mate's sentences, trying to force his trust between words. "I-- Look, there's no excuse, I know. Work and--"

 

       "Rane. Half of the businesses you own don't even need you to be there. And _I_ have a job too, so don't even bullshit me. Even after coming home late, Thomas was my first priority before everything else. It was stressful taking care of him, especially when the one person I trusted my life with decided to bail; I'm tired, I haven't slept because the bed is always empty. Lord knows when the last time we had an actual family dinner was--"

 

       "Okay, okay, I get it. I shouldn't have worked so many hours. But you have to understand that--"

 

       "Fuck your work, this isn't what I'm trying to tell you! This isn't about me, it's about Thomas , and you don't even care enough about him to just shut up and--"

 

     "I _do_ care, you're just too damn stubborn to let me finish!" Rane's temper snaps. He advances closer to Alec, only to have the omega take a step back to match every centimeter. This tiny, suffocating atmosphere with walls constructed of paper, growls and protests bouncing back and forth and meshing over itself repeatedly. This is the last of Alec's patience; it's finally flown out the window.

 

       He lets his back hit the wall next to the metal filing cabinet and draws up to full length in challenge, green eyes blazing like false fire. Rane senses his growing audacity; he scoffs and gets personal, his forehead touching Alec's. Ground coffee beans and artificial sweetener stain his breath, almost causing Alec to grimace and turn away from the offending stink.

 

     But he doesn't turn away. Instead, he growls.

 

       Way back when, while him and Rane still attended high school, Alec's personality was a little more reserved, his most vicious self tucked far away within the confines of his imagination and secured with lock and key. As an adolescent, he had learned that it was better to keep deadly secrets to himself, so that one day, whenever some asshole tried to mate by force, they wouldn't expect the attack coming. Rane nearly became his first victim for a simple miscommunication in the bathrooms; he knows what Alec is capable of.

 

       Even so, Rane is persistent and stubborn, two traits that are bound to get him into trouble some day, if not here. However, the odds are in his favor when it comes to winning the case, and that is something Alec cannot bow down to.

      

       He clenches his jaw. "How cowardly of an alpha are you to just pass the blame on to someone else? Huh? This isn't _me_  with communication issues, it's _you_!Thomas was both of our responsibility. All the apologies in the world won't fix what's happened."

 

       "I'm not apologizing, because the only think I'm sorry for is choosing you to be my mate. If I knew that you were this irresponsible with children, I would have left your ass in that bathroom without a second word. Yes, Thomas was both of our responsibility, but you know what?" Rane takes hold of Alec's bandaged hand, squeezing at the sensitive tissue. "I just don't understand why you did it." He's making assumptions, crazy assumptions. But assuming is better than confessing one's sins. It's always better.

 

       "Why I did what?" Alec asks, through clenched teeth, trying to stave off the burning pain running through his right hand up to the wrist. He smells blood seeping through the bandages. When Rane laughs, it takes all of his energy not to snap, despite the alpha's encouragement.

 

       "Kill our son."

 

       "I didn't."

 

       "Yes," he slurs,  "yes you did. Admit it!"

 

       **A challenge is a threat. Threats are never taken lighty. People should never step up to an alpha.**

 

       "What do you want me to say?!"

 

       **Keep your voice calm. Don't let the problem reach new heights.**

 

       "You left him alone and he died! I _want_ you to apologize!"

 

       **Never point fingers.**

 

       "This would have never happened if you stayed home. Don't give me that bullshit!"

 

       **The blame is equally shared.**

 

       "What, you wanted him to suffer? Is that it? If you didn't want him to have the medicine you should have said something."

 

       **Try not to get emotional.**

 

       "He didn't suffer because of a fever."

 

       **What we speak are absolute truths.**

 

       The room goes quiet, save for ragged breathing. "What the Hell…are you talking about?" Rane appears to be taken aback, replaying the doctor's words and comparing them to Alec's nonsense. "Of course he died of a fever you _dumbass_! A fucking seizure for God's sakes!"

 

     Alec shakes his head. He exhales, long and sorrowful, out his nose and closes his eyes momentarily to collect himself. He refrains from restarting the conversation for several moments before deciding to speak, prior to Rane's patience running out. "You know what happens when a child doesn't have their daily dose of pheromone. From both parents." The grey carpet captures Alec's attention for the time being. "You know that…complications happen."

 

       "He died because of a fever."

 

       "No. Thomas died because he was becoming Senseless." Alec bites. "He was getting weaker everyday and we chose to ignore it. I thought he would be fine without--"

 

       "And look where that got you."

 

       "Where it _got us_. Thomas was living half alive, he only had omega chem in him. Without an alpha to activate his genomes, he got weaker and weaker every single day because the only thing keeping him stable were the few instincts I gave him."

 

       Rane mulls over this and everything in between. He knows that having a child born omega could be difficult things to take care of if not given proper attention, but he didn't think it would--no, he knew. Rane _did_ know and he wanted it to happen because in truth, he never wanted to have a child in the first place. The first time they had sex, Rane didn't use a condom, Alec got pregnant, and he found he that just wasn't ready to give his undivided attention to someone other than his husband. They were fresh out of high school at the time; their parents were supportive and helped fund them all the way into college and Rane tried his best to show how happy he was for their firstborn. But he couldn't….And, just like Alec has so clearly stated, took a life.

 

     The alpha doesn't realize he's started crying until he smells the familiar scent of Alec seeping from clothing to clothing, blocking out the harsh stench of coffee. He wraps his arms around his mate tentatively; Alec squeezes harder. He swallows back tears of his own, strangely finding that he is grateful to see someone else cry instead; especially grateful because Rane has finally pushed back the denial and hate and anger, substituting those emotions for acceptance. They have finally talked this ordeal out, have finally broke the barrier. And Alec is sure that something, if not everything, has been learned from this feud. What Rane has realized through those shell shocked eyes though....What was that look?

 

Disgust?

 

Horror?

 

Disbelief?

 

       "I'm sorry." Rane sniffles. How would he explain that he did this on purpose? How _could_ he explain? They're already ex husbands, ex mates, all because he couldn't handle the pressure of parenting and chose to sweep it under the rug for no one to question or bother with. Alec is never going to forgive him, remarriage won't be an option, no one else will be able to trust him at all once his parenting license is revoked, and--and--

 

       "I'm leaving Rane. I don't want to stay with you anymore." His words are a ghost of a whisper against Rane's neck, forced out agonizingly slow to enforce their full effect and hostile reality. As they stand here, in a hospital, given time to grieve and sort things out behind closed doors. Honestly their separation was bound to happen anyway; they were star struck lovers before Thomas died, still living in a dream. And Alec may not know what drove Rane or himself to act like monsters, but if he wants to atone, something has to (needs to) give. He can't bear the thought of sharing a house with someone untrustworthy; he can't bear for someone else to share a house _with_ the untrustworthy; him

 

 

       A gentle push on his abdomen is all it takes for Alec to seal the deal completely. He breaks away from second skin and a finely trimmed suit, and gathers his lukewarm coffee from the table. "Just so you know..."  _I'm sorry for not feeling remorse for killing our son_ , "You were never my bitch." Rane whispers.

 

Alec believes him. "I signed his papers already so I'm going to pack up now. If you didn't sign for his release you should do that now before coming home, and--um. Take care of yourself. Please." It takes a while for Rane to get himself collected, nodding only after Alec slips out with a resounding sigh.

* * *

 

 

       "Have you seen a Mr.….Alec Sinew?" Although she came prepared to talk, Paris can never count on her memory, having to always check her miniature schedule book filled with client's names and numbers. She stands patiently at the secretary's desk of Power Care Hospital, tapping her heel as the blonde haired woman takes her time. She finishes whatever was being typed on the desktop before finally giving Paris full attention.

 

       She answers in a bored tone, "Just left. He's probably--oh, you know what? Right there." Standing obviously close to Paris at a water fountain stationed next to the elevator, the man dumps murky brown liquid down the drain.

 

       "Thank you." Paris says; it pays to be courteous, even if someone sounds like they have a stick up their ass. It takes her less than three long strides to reach Mr. Sinew, a man dressed in blue jeans and grey flannel, and excuse herself to gain his attention. He turns around, blue eyes widened slightly in a questioning manner. "Hello, my name is Paris. The doctors sent me to talk to you about your son."

 

       "I don't need counseling. If you'll excuse me,"

 

       "This isn't counseling Mr. Sinew." He must be struck by her sudden, strict tone because the man stops dead in his tracks. Paris continues, "I am a social worker. Dr Drake called me in not too long ago; you and I have an appointment."

 

       "You're with CPS…." Cold hard fear raises goosebumps on Alec's pale flesh, like a bucket of ice water dumped down his back. The hand holding his coffee cup trembles slightly. "Should I…should I get my husband?"

 

       "We have separate appointments. I will call him later." Alec takes a moment to scramble his brain back together, allowing himself time to look at Paris. She's tall, has brown hair twisted into a neat bun and gelled back, wearing a white blouse and a black pencil skirt with heels. She doesn't smell very intimidating, probably because she's a beta. This relaxes him slightly; at least Alec knows that he will have a fair discussion.

 

       The omega follows Paris into the elevator tensely up three floors. They arrive in an empty hallway filled with doors facing each other, some open and other closed. They walk all the way down to the end, where an open door lay inviting and bathed in the sun's light from a floor to ceiling window, giving a view of the hospital's miniature garden.

 

       Alec seats his jean clad legs on a leather chair facing the woman's desk, and crosses them at the ankle out of habit. He's so nervous that the anticipation and fear is making him anxious, and being anxious leads to panic and Alec is _desperately_ trying to steer clear of panicking. Waking up this morning to find Thomas dead in his arms and Rane looking at him in shock at the foot of the bed shook his world spectacularly, and was more than enough torture in one day. Paris' calm visage should put him at ease some, but Alec knows what happens to parents who talk to social workers. The outcome is usually some horrible sentence, where their child is either taken away or weekly visits become part of your family routine. But in this case, there is no child. What could Paris want to say?

 

     The beta takes his coffee cup, discarding it in the miniature trash bin beside her desk.  "Mr. Sinew, I just want to give you my condolences for the death of your son, Thomas. I also want to warn you that whatever we say in this office, may or may not be repeated and or put on your record from this point on. Do you understand?" This is the hardest part of her job, getting down to business. Paris waits for Alec to respond. She scoots her comfy black chair closer toward Mr. Sinew and interlaces the inside of her knuckles. "So, your son, Thomas. He was an omega. Am I correct?"

 

       "Yes." Alec whispers. He keeps his eyes down.

 

       "So you are aware of what taking care of an omega means, that they need undivided attention from the moment they are born. He lived for a couple good years, only ten I am afraid, but that was to be expected. I looked over his medical charts--with your doctor's permission--and found that although he died of a severe fever, there were certain imbalances caused by stress and…neglect." Oh, how she hates using that word. It should never be in the same sentence involving children or parents; humans in general. "Half of your son's genomes remained dormant. Do you know why?"

 

       Alec does. He wants to tell her without there being consequences whatsoever, but now that he knows what this meeting is about, lying could only make the outcome worse. He clears his throat. "I was the only one taking care of him. Thomas only had my own pheromone in him instead of both of ours." What if Rane hates him for this? "I mean, he had some of Rane's from time to time, but he needed it everyday and--" Alec shrugs.

 

       "How often did he ever have both?"

 

       "Maybe once a month, if…."

 

_"Babe, he's getting weaker. Look at him."_

_Thomas plays lifelessly with his plastic action figures on the rug of the kitchen. He is at age five, currently able to smell and taste and touch. His hearing is slowly developing, but not where it needs to be._

_"He's fine. Just give it some time." Of course Rane's usual stubbornness would choose to show itself now._

_"Babe, please. Just a little bit. Read him a story tonight, sleep in the bed with us."_

_"I have to go to work."_

_"Rane--"_

 

       "Mr. Sinew?" Paris pauses writing on her notepad to take a look at the omega. Her heart breaks to find him hunched over, head in hands, like the world has just screwed him over. It has.

 

       This lady is very persistent, if not borderline annoying. Alec pinches the bridge of his nose."If he ever came home. He was busy all the time."

 

       "So your husband was busy? That is hardly an excuse to go by, I'm sure that Mr. Sinew--"

 

       "Antl."

 

       "Pardon?"

 

       "We aren't married anymore. As of last night." It is only then that Paris notices the pale, circular shaped mark on Alec's ring finger.

 

       "I'm sorry….But as I was saying, Mr. Antl should have known the consequences of skipping a critical part of the child's development. If you put everything together, Thomas was sure to become Senseless without recovery for quite some time if he lived passed the storm. But this brings another question, which I need you to answer, regardless of the cons. You told the doctor that Mr. Antl went out for medicine the morning before the storm started, but failed to come back. During the time he was gone, you said that Thomas died in your arms around eight PM, and that no matter how hard you tried to wake him up, Thomas wouldn't open his eyes. Is this statement true?" Paris has enough evidence to prove or deny whatever Mr. Sinew's answer may be. The true cause of death, added along with other factors, lay in a neat file at the foot of her desk.

 

       "You know the answer, but I'll tell you anyway. The answer is no."

 

       "Thank you for being honest. Thomas, with the evidence that has been given to me, his cause of death was by suffocation. He choked on his own sick. But here's one thing I don't understand, Mr. Sinew:

 

       If you are the dedicated parent you claim yourself to be, why did you not aid Thomas even while witnessing him choke to death?"

 

_A_ _lec doesn't remember hearing Thomas collapse on his side in a coughing fit, nor does he remember Thomas retching all over their bed, calling for daddy to come help. The only thing Alec remembers is trashing their house in rage, throwing lamps to the floor and anything else breakable. Dishes, pottery, vases. He tears up posters on the wall and as payment, receives cuts and gashes upon his hands. He screams and screams, every so often being muted by the angry thunder crashing outside their home._

 

       The omega picks at the thick, unwanted bandage around his hands. "I wasn't in the room."

 

       "Where were you?"

 

       "…I…was having a sort of breakdown. I was walking around the house to cool off because Thomas was just a complete mess and I didn't know what to do because nothing I did calmed him down and Rane wasn't there to help and he just kept calling for him he wouldn't stop he was just crying and sick and I didn't mean for any of this to happen I didn't know that he would throw up again, I didn't notice he was getting sick and when I came back he wouldn't wake up and I noticed that he choked and--"

 

       "Mr. Sinew please calm down. Mr. Sinew. Sir, where are you going?"

        

       "I can't breathe in here. I need to leave. God, I'm just so tired, I need to go."

 

       "But--"

 

       "You have enough evidence, don't you?!" Alec shouts from the door. Today is not a good day, today is a bad day, with bad luck and bad people. He's trying to breathe through it all but the judgment and going back and forth when his sentence is clearly decided is just pointless. "You already knew what was going to happen, even before we had this discussion."

      

        In all her years of working, Paris has never had anyone step out before a full meeting, much less know their fate before she's dished out the cards. What Mr. Sinew says is correct, however, and there is no getting past this. Paris rises from her chair and circles around the desk to Alec; she is about two inches taller than her normal height and can get a good look at him as she says, "Yes. I knew, but…I was hoping that something you said could change what would happen. But I can't and I'm sorry, so so sorry that this has all happened to you! If I could waver the rules, I would." She takes a deep breath. "Due to the information you have given to me and the evidence provided prior to this discussion, I am able to charge you with child neglect, therefore taking away your parenting license as well and--wait! Mr. Sinew, please!"

      

       Alec pushes past the beta to get access to the doorknob. He doesn't look back once, slamming the door in her face and jogging to the elevator to make his escape. Thankfully the carriage is empty, giving him some space to breathe, to confess his sins, and cry some more.

      

       But as the he starts to calm, Alec notices some scary things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, anything! Please let me know what you think! I know the story isn't very clear right now, but I promise the plot will make sense in the future.


	3. Note

Hey guys, I'm sorry that the updates haven't been posted yet, I am still on vacation. Tomorrow is my last day though, so I'll be bacl home and drafting the new updates since I haven't done them yet. Unfortunately, this means that updates will be at least another (half) week late.

I'm sooorrrryyy!!!


	4. Les Yeux Rouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My French is a little rusty, but what I've written should be correct; just like Alec, I've taken two years of French. However, I am not an expert. So, if you find any grammar mistakes then please let me know. 
> 
> Also, their conversations will be written in the informal text since Alec is only three years her senior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bonne idée." -Good idea.  
> "Il fait froid aujourd'hui, eh? Est-ce que tu veux venir à chez-moi? Je puex fait du chocolate chaud, peut-être." -It's cold today, huh? Do you want to come to my house? I can make some hot chocolate, perhaps.  
> "Quelque chose est arrivé à Thomas, Stephanie." Something happened to Thomas, Stephanie.  
> "Je suis--" très bien? "--Je suis mal, maintenant." -I am (very well?) I not doing okay right now.  
> "Alec? Alec! Salut mon petit cochon!" -Hi my little pig! "Comment ça va? Où est ta famille?" -How's it going? Where's your family?  
> Elle est née à San Diego originalement, mais quand elle a vignt-cinq ans, Stephanie est venu ici sur Phoenix, Arizona. -She was originally born in San Diego, but when she was 25, Stephanie came here to Phoenix, Arizona.

"Due to the information you have given to me and the evidence provided prior to this discussion, I am able to charge you with child neglect, therefore taking away your parenting license as well and--wait! Mr. Sinew, please!"

 

Alec pushes past the beta to get access to the doorknob. He doesn't look back once, slamming the door in her face and jogging to the elevator to make his escape. Thankfully the carriage is empty, giving him some space to breathe, to confess his sins, and cry some more.

 

But as the he starts to calm, Alec notices some scary things.

* * *

 

Perhaps it is madness that has driven them to this point; sarcasm can only meld so comfortably at the hint of a serious tone, enough to drive each other over the edge with little to hang on to but each other. Strings, which used to hold them together have been cut. But withered, Velcro straps worn over time allow a temporary embrace. It is not their relationship that has been blown to the wind, but themselves.

 

_**A** _ **_re you breathing underwater?_ **

 

* * *

 

 He is alone, abandoned, without family, cold. _Bum bum bum_ , pounds his heart; a caterpillar patiently eats its way to the bone, past his ribcage, wraps its black prayers around the organ.

 

It squeezes.

 

 He feels as if he could purge, he feels as if he can scream. It's choking him, the caterpillar. He can’t breathe.

 

  _Start making calls. Find an apartment. I will start a new life, damn myself to Hell._

 

 Down three floors; one nurse joins him at the second. Beautiful; soft curls, brown; small head, long neck; brown eyes; beta. She smiles to Alec, unaware of the gory turmoil inside his chest. Ah, but _is_ this turmoil? Is Alec suffering?

 

  ** _Are you transforming? Do you plan to make a chrysalis, little caterpillar?_ **

 

 The omega remembers his manners. He offers a soft smile, though it seems forced, painful; faint trails of tear tracks stain his cheeks, drying into a chalky white. "Lobby?" Alec asks, voice strangely dead of emotion though they are as plain as day on his face.

 

 "Sub one, please." She's polite too, the omega.

 

  _"_ _Daddy, may I go to Ty's house?"_

  _"Does his mom know you're going over there?"_

  _"Yes."_

  _"_ _Okay, well let's tidy up first. I want you to make up your bed and then load your toys into the basket please."_

  _"Thank you daddy!"_

 

 "Of course." He lifts a steady hand, pulls it toward the right, skims the buttons lightly until his middle finger rests over Sub Level One. The elevator descends smoothly. Alec can feel the caterpillar clench for dear life, as if the protection of his ribs don't offer enough guardianship for its abstract spirit. He forces back tears of agony and embarrassment; until today, he was a man who could hide behind a façade of smothered patience, of forgiveness. Until today, he was a man with a shoulder to lean on.

 

 Until today, Alec Sinew was a father.

* * *

 

In Phoenix, Arizona, Power Care Hospital lay just off of highway 51 and branches onto E. Thomas Road; this main street is normally busy during the weekday, crowded and loud. Today, Thursday, is no different than it usually is. As soon as Alec stiffly walks past the automated doors, his shoulders hunched to hide from security cameras, beeping horns and screaming tires pierce his ears like the unexpected barrage of questions Rane spat.

 

 Unexpected and painful.

 

 Why is the world still moving?

 

  _"_ _911 what is your emergency?"_

_"My son is dead. I don't…."_

_"Alec. Give them our address. Now."_

_"Sir?"_

 

 "Sir?" a masculine voice calls from behind. He manages to open his eyes, nearly assuming the embracing darkness was of the world. Of how it oughta be.

 

 Dark.

 

 Alec turns around steadily, twisting his neck first, the rest of him following. A bald, dark skinned man dressed in blue slacks and a white button down stares at him patiently, his fingertips resting along the dents in his belt. "Sir, we need this door clear so the patients can enter and exit." The omega is shifting to the side before his masked command is marked with a period; he doesn't feel guilty when a mother pushes her son past immediately after, almost impatient.

 

 "I'm sorry." he calls.

 

 "No need to apologize, my friend. Are you waiting for someone? You might be more comfortable in the lobby, the nurses are passing out hot chocolate. It's cold out here." The man speaks with familiarity, calling Alec 'friend' instead of 'sir' as if they had some sort of past together. He is also a beta. Alec wonders if the majority of staff are of this nature to keep patients and families calm, to keep the omegas at ease instead of worrying about facing a level of dominance greater than their own.

 

 He almost feels offended thinking of this hypothesis. He held is own against Rane perfectly fine.

 

  _"_ _Please, babe. One more hour."_

 

 He left him because he _chose_ to leave. He took control. He's still in control.

 

 "No, but thank you. I'm going home."

 

  ** _Can you smell the sugar?_ **

* * *

 

Alec spends the entire ten minute cab ride getting his act together, extending his neck, broadening his back, crossing his ankles, and feigning constitution. A polite smile to the driver as he exits the car, a generous tip, confident strides toward the whitewash door of his home. As the driver pulls away from the curb, he pulls out his keys.

 

They wont stop slipping from his fingers.

 

Alec has never been the cowardly type. In fact, he loves a challenge; puzzles, mazes, trivia, word problems. He was born and raised to be independent just like his parents, and once he organized personal goals and morals, trained himself to function without the aid of another. His parents fed him steady streams of hormones, never missing a daily dose, until all five senses allowed him to color the world to his liking, matured like a mosaic, and steadily detached from their lifeline. They asked him to be smart, to be strong, and he did. Elementary school passed by him in a flurry of award-winning assemblies all the way through Middle, then high school where the walls of his room were decorated in Honor Rolls and metals. Praise is what he fed off of, what he still craves even today; yet somehow, all of the training and self discipline he put himself through went flying out the window. Alec met Rane and all of a sudden he's a social butterfly, all of a sudden his teenage perspective of the world bloomed even further, all of a sudden he became scared of change.

Rane became his challenge, in more ways than one. He should have expected their relationship to falter. After all, high school sweethearts are never supposed to last through senior year. But then Alec got pregnant, another challenge which he would have to face and conquer to the best of his abilities.

 

He failed.

 

And now look what happened.

 

"Alec? Alec! Salut mon petit cochon!" 50 percent Quebecoise. "Comment ça va? Où est ta famille?" And 50 percent Américain, Stephanie de Rose calls cheerily from her front yard. Elle est née à San Diego originalement, mais quand elle a vignt-cinq ans, Stephanie est venu ici, sur Phoenix, Arizona. Alec is happy to see her today, to hear her motherly voice after weeks of strict scheduling. Marigolds and honey suckle stain her clothes. She smells absolutely divine, natural; for the first time this afternoon he breathes a little easier.

 

When Stephanie moved to this neighborhood she seemed very quiet and minded her own business, living like a ghost in her own home. Never greeted the neighbors, never said 'Hi' to the mailman, stayed away from everybody's dog while walking her own. But still, disregarding the lack of interaction going on between her and everybody else, Stephanie sent masked signals--barely noticeable, really-- that pleaded for attention. Leaving the curtains open to her patio door, keeping the windows open while baking, putting a Welcome mat on her front step; it seemed obvious to Alec that she wanted to talk to someone, but didn't know how.

 

So one day in June, he walked over to her house and introduced himself…only to find that she spoke French. He would realize later on that she only reverted back to her native tongue if she's nervous or shy-- her face when Alec spoke a nice, long, formal greeting en francais (he took two years of French in high school) was absolutely priceless. Since then, they were friends who had good conversation.

 

It comes to his attention that he hasn't returned her greeting, still crouched over the doormat to obtain his keys. "Salut, Stephanie." he says. "Je suis--" _très bien?_ "--Je suis mal, maintenant." He rises to full height, offering a small smile. Obviously, by the way she frowns, confusion parting her lips, Stephanie lacks a response. It isn't like Alec to say he's doing bad but then smile as if everything is okay.

 

"What happened?" She says, crossing both yards to close the distance between them. Stephanie cups his cheek and peers into his eyes, maroon melting into blue to create poisonous violet. Her jeans are stained green, probably from gardening, but her hands lack any residue. She thumbs away dried tears, prompting, "Alec, are you okay?" and gasps, "Your hands!"

 

He finds himself opening and closing his mouth, smothering what he wants to say, to what he should say, versus what he needs to say. But the Alpha's pleading eyes manage to leave him speechless. Of course she would be the first one to worry about his health, of course she would be the first one to notice something very wrong had happened, to notice that his family is nowhere within sight, and of course she would be the first one to be filled in on all the details. Alec just has to figure out how to tell her. Maybe she can help him.

 

He raises a timid, trembling hand to the one on his cheek. "Quelque chose est arrivé à Thomas, Stephanie."

 

Just as the Quebecoise parts her lips, a strong gust of wind punches the back her neck, magnetizing her forehead toward Alec's chest. She flushes in embarrassment as she pulls back, but stays on topic. "Il fait froid aujourd'hui, eh? Est-ce que tu veux venir à chez-moi? Je puex fait du chocolate chaud, peut-être." Alec smiles humorously; everybody seems to be making hot chocolate today--

 

It drops as his phone chimes--Rane sent a text.

 

**_Can you taste the iron in your blood?_ **

 

"Bonne idée."

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think Alec and Stephanie will talk about next chapter? What do you think the Caterpillar around his heart symbolizes? Anything you'd like to point out or get off your chest?
> 
> Comment anything, please! How did I do?


	5. Peacocking Jigsaw Puzzles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I finally downloaded Microsoft word so the formatting will look a bit different  
> 2) This is a short chapter, but I wanted to give a little background on Stéphanie before moving any further

 

**Peacocking Jigsaw Puzzles**

       When one finds themselves in an intensely or acutely difficult situation, it is only natural to feel anxiety. Will you stay or run? Fight or flight? Has the room suddenly been layered in molten lava, thickening into tar and excreting chest-itching fumes? The action one will income obviously depends not _singularly_ on the situation, but an entendre involving the person as well. Stéphanie de Rose has lived through enough compromising experiences to understand this concept, that action is no less spontaneous than the mind. She understands—faced with the hard times of being poor, of having nothing to eat, sleeping with one size too small jeans and black tank top, barren of any coverage to her feminine parts—she understands what a person will say or do to make situations seem less horrible than they appear, albeit a self-induced illusion.

       Only at a respectably ripened age of twenty-five, did Stéphanie abandon said illusion and finally start her life; no more knives, thieves, and tricks.

       Except, when Stéphanie excused herself from her family back in San Diego, none of her epiphanies struck them as important or memory worthy; they let her leave, never said a word when she called a cab and rode herself to the airport. Everyone: Père, Mère, Sœur, Frère: flashed their pearly whites, smoothed back their gelled hair, patted wrinkles from finely starched clothes, and blocked the doorway to prevent reentry.

       Stéphanie had made up her mind. She wouldn’t be allowed back in that house.

       These days she isn’t so bitter now that the betrayal has worn off, nothing to be associated with but freshly baked muffins and cakes, warming up her home like a personal patisserie. _Sa chien aussi, mais Chestnut n’est pas très intéressant._ As for the rest of her life, a supremely complex jigsaw puzzles she has yet to patch together, Stéphanie is waiting for the right piece to come along and fill another space.

       Her neighbor, monsieur Alec Sinew, blinded her from the corner of her peripheral, peacocking the most magnificent of blues and golds and browns; such beautiful colors that are not at all blended.

       But could be.

       “It’s only the day after Thanksgiving, Alec…where’s your family?” She seats herself comfortably next to the omega, placing two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table to cool; he says nothing as her finely manicured fingers brush lightly, almost intimately, over his jaw. Five ticks of the clock pass in silence before his mouth ticks the slightest inch.

        “I feel like there is something in my chest…something wrapped around my heart, making it hard to really understand what’s happening—what’s happened.”

       “How did this object manifest in the first place?”

        Alec gives himself time to think; really think. He has a crazy idea that maybe, whatever has been choking him since earlier this afternoon, is only noticeable now because there is nothing to distract him from feeling it any longer. Ironic, considering that chilly bones and numb lips are the only thing that he is actually aware of. But everything else…if someone asked Alec to write a summary of events from two nights ago leading up to now, sitting in Stéphanie’s living room, the most you would get from him could be compared to abused paints on a canvas.

        Inept.

       “I don’t know.” He answers. The steam from their mugs has condensed into a thin trail; Stéphanie has a lot of patience and clearly waited. Gave him time to think.

       “The heart is a very sensitive organ, mon ami. It’s compromised with emotions, blood, texture. But I have a feeling,” Alec meets her gaze, “that it is broken. Can you smile?” _Obviously not_. “Can you frown?” _Where is she going with this?_ “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Alec. Have you seen one?”

       “No, but I- “ _created one_.

       “The wedding band.” She presses on. “It’s gone. Your skin isn’t colored with little Thomas’ paints anymore, like it always is. You smell like—like….”

       His heart.

       His heart, his heart, his heart. Fuck, it’s pounding out of his ribcage, threateningly pulling itself loose and crawling up his throat. He feels it, it hurts, he can’t breathe because his heart is literally in his throat and he’s shaking and it’s all coming back to him and he can hear something, someone; hears the laughter of a little boy and God, his mind is telling him to listen but his heart says _stop_.

       It slides back down with ease; the organ is back in its proper place, pumping blood like nothing happened. Alec feels a pleasant warmth in his bones, feels _exactly_ what he needs himself to be.

_“Daddy, please!”_

**Numb.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think of Stéphanie? I haven't given her much of a personality yet, but based on her background and intimate knowledge of the mind, how do you feel about Stéphanie in general?

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think ;-)


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